


I See Fire

by harryismymuse



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, Smut, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 19:25:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5017345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harryismymuse/pseuds/harryismymuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What’s your name? I haven’t seen you around here before…”</p><p>    “Harry,” He grinned, cautiously at first, then full-on beaming. “I just moved here last week and I don’t really know anybody.”</p><p>    “Well…now you do.” Niall said, feeling a little bold suddenly. He could hear his heartbeat thundering in his ears.</p><p>    A few locks of Harry’s hair slid away from the rest to frame his lovely face, and this time he didn’t bother them. He just offered a close-mouth, dimpled smile and let his eyes sweep over him in a way that made a shiver run down Niall’s back. “I suppose I do.” Harry agreed. Then, gaze dropping to the name tag clipped to the other’s shirt, “…Niall.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I See Fire

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this fic on and off for months. It was never supposed to be this long, but once I started, it just kind of flowed. I was initially posting it up chapter by chapter, but I decided to take it down, edit it all together, and post it as one complete work. I hope you like it! I spent a lot of hours working on it, and I'm really happy about the final result. If you read, please leave kudos, also any feedback you may have to put in the comments is always appreciated!

That morning, Niall walked into the grocery store where he worked, still abuzz from the crisp chill in the air outside. It was a lovely day; clear blue skies, gentle sunshine and a whispering, early-autumn breeze. He lived for days like that; they lifted his spirits a bit more than usual.

“Morning, Horan,” Niall’s boss, Mr. Tram clapped him heartily on the back. He was an older gentleman with grey streaking the hair at his temples and spectacles in front of his gentle, smiling eyes.

“Morning Tram,” Niall grinned, slipping the baby blue apron over his head to get ready for the beginning of his shift.

“You look fairly chipper this morning,” Mr. Tram commented, eyeing Niall with a thoughtful tilt to his head. “Hot date last night?”

Niall laughed and shook his head. “Hot date with a pint, maybe.”

Mr. Tram sighed fondly. “Well I hope that won’t mess with your ability to work today, Niall. I have to run to the bank, so you’ll be left in charge this morning.”

“I’ve got you covered.” Niall assured him, offering a crooked grin and a thumbs-up.

Truthfully, Niall had been feeling a tad lonely lately. He’d been single for over a year and eventually the occasional hook up here and there had started to feel, in a word, unfulfilling. Tram’s—a small storefront shop on the main street of a tiny town—was relatively empty that morning; only a slow-moving elderly couple wandering through the aisles. Niall was leaning against the front counter, his head balanced in his hand as he daydreamed about sweet-smelling skin and lazy neck kisses.

He didn’t even hear the bell chime when someone else walked through the door.

By the time he looked up, all he could see of the customer through the shelve slats across the room was their hair. Long, brown, twisting locks down their back that moved with an alluring bounce and flow when the stranger walked.

Niall had a thing for curly-haired brunettes. There weren’t any in town that he knew of, so his heart skipped a beat or two when he caught sight of them.

“Hi, are you the manager?” The stranger approached the counter before Niall could work up the courage to do anything himself. He looked up into the face of a man, dressed in a loose white t-shirt and blue jeans, kicking his scuffed leather boots against the linoleum floor as he waited for a reply. He was tall and slim with tattoos trailing down one arm while the hand of the other one combed his hair away from his face. His eyes were a clear, dazzling green.

“Um—yeah.” Niall blurted, trying to remember not to stare. But the long-haired stranger was smiling at him, cheeks flushed a rosy shade of pink from the chill outside. “I mean, no. Sorry. I just… work here.” Lame. Lame response.

Stranger chuckled, low and deep. “That’s alright. I just have some sweets here. Baked them myself and thought I’d give them out around town. You know, spread the love.”

Niall nodded, but couldn’t stop staring at his lips. They were so pink, and they moved slow when he talked, shaping themselves around every word he spoke. He barely noticed when a large tupperware container was placed in front of him and opened, revealing row after row of perfectly-made vanilla cupcakes. 

Stranger handed him one with a small grin. “The icing’s strawberry.”

Niall took the cupcake he was offered, feeling an electric spark shoot through his nerves when their hands touched in the transfer. “Thank you. Wow—looks good.” He turned it around in his hand for a moment, suddenly hyper-aware of his growling stomach. “So—um,” Niall scratched his head and laughed. “What’s your name? I haven’t seen you around here before…”

“Harry,” He grinned, cautiously at first, then full-on beaming. “I just moved here last week and I don’t really know anybody.”

“Well…now you do.” Niall said, feeling a little bold suddenly. He could hear his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

A few locks of Harry’s hair slid away from the rest to frame his lovely face, and this time he didn’t bother them. He just offered a close-mouth, dimpled smile and let his eyes sweep over him in a way that made a shiver run down Niall's back. “I suppose I do.” Harry agreed. Then, gaze dropping to the name tag clipped to the other’s shirt, “…Niall.”

 

***

 

Niall left Harry to wander around the store alone then, trying not to glance up every twenty seconds to watch him. He felt like the ground under his feet had been tilted off balance; like he’d been gripped by some invisible force that wouldn’t let him go.

When Harry approached the counter again several minutes later with a small basket of items and a casual grin, Niall felt his face grow hot.

Say something, you idiot, he thought. But Harry beat him to it.

“Well, I’ll see you later then,” He said as Niall scanned the last item and handed over his bags. “Nice talking to you.” Harry smiled sweetly before taking his purchases, and his cupcakes, and turning away from the counter.

Niall watched him walk out the door into the sunshine; hair dancing back from his shoulders, shirt billowing in the wind. He stared at the spot where Harry had disappeared for so long that he nearly yelped aloud when he heard the sound of someone clearing their throat nearby.

The elderly couple was next in line at the register. Niall—who’d completely forgotten they were still there—blushed wildly as he proceeded to ring up their small cart of items.

“Have a good day,” He said to them when he was done.

The old man nodded pleasantly and walked away, but his wife stayed behind and eyed Niall for several seconds before speaking. “What a handsome one that was,” She said, nodding subtly to the door. “A right sweetheart. Good luck with it, hun.”

Niall was so shocked he couldn’t think of anything to say, but the woman only smiled and walked off after her husband, the two of them leaving Niall in the shop by himself to contemplate the morning’s events.

 

***

 

A week later, Niall was sitting in the town’s local bar, watching the bubbles in his beer fizzle and pop. It was hardly 8:00pm on a Friday night, and Niall was already working his way towards being totally trashed.

“You’re getting low there, pal. Wanna go for a another?” The bartender asked from a few feet away, gesturing towards Niall’s near-empty glass.

“Keep ‘em coming ‘till I hit the floor.” Niall replied. His voice was light-hearted enough, but inside, he felt like he was sinking into himself, drowning. After meeting Harry at the grocery last week, he’d been looking for him ever since, but without any luck. His heart still skipped a beat every time the bell dinged above the glass storefront door.

It was a small town. Small enough that no one went totally unseen for a week without doing it intentionally. Niall had probably come off as creepy. Too eager or something. He’d been told before that his bright blue eyes and face-splitting grins made him seem more like a cute little boy than the twenty-two year old man he was. Harry probably wasn’t single anyway. People that looked like him had options, and a lot of them. Niall couldn’t compete with that.

The bartender set another drink down in front of Niall with a sharp clink of glass on the finished hardwood. Niall thanked him and pushed his empty one aside to make room. Darkly, he let the beer splash down his throat as he continued to simmer over his problems.

Harry avoiding him had been a real stinger to Niall’s already-shaky self confidence. He’d spent most of his life trailing behind everyone else; in school, in ambition, in love and relationships. Most of the time he blamed the town he lived in; complaining that it was small and shitty and the people were boring… but all of his old friends had moved away years ago, to go to college, or to pursue exciting new careers. Niall, on the other hand, was still working the same dead-end job he’d started when he was eighteen, still driving the same beat-up car, and living within walking distance of his childhood home.

But he was starting to forget about most of that stuff as he downed the rest of his beer in record time.

“Might wanna slow down there, Niall.” The bartender frowned as he replaced Niall’s beer once more and stacked his empty glass away with the rest.

Niall only smiled and toasted him with a slosh of beer onto the counter. A few minutes later, someone came to sit down beside him on the stool to his left.

“Um… can I get that one? That sounds fun.”

Niall whipped his head around at the voice. He nearly fell out of his chair from the dizziness, but his heart skipped forward at an alarming rate when his eyes fell on Harry sitting forward on his stool, pointing to something on a little black menu booklet and smiling at the bartender. After a second or two, he turned to Niall and beamed, lighting up the entire room.

“Nice to see you again, mate.” Harry’s hair was pulled back into a messy bun, showing off the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the long line of his jaw. He was wearing a button down the color of red wine that hung open to just above his belly. He was tan and lovely, and most of his tattoos were on display for anyone to see. Niall thought he was nothing less than breathtaking.

“Hello,” Niall replied, the alcohol helping him to keep from freezing up under Harry’s emerald gaze. “It’s good to see you, too.”

The bartender sat Harry’s drink in front of him; something alarmingly blue in a tiny glass with fresh fruit and sugar around the rim. Harry tilted his head to the side awkwardly to get a better look at the curious concoction.

“It’s so pretty I don’t want to drink it.” He mumbled, straightening up again. “Want some?” He looked to Niall.

Niall had been busy staring at Harry’s hands and the gleaming silver rings on his fingers. When he realized Harry was speaking to him, he startled a bit. “No thanks. I’m more of a beer man, myself.”

Harry shrugged. “Suit yourself.” And knocked the drink back in one shot. Afterwards, he made a face like he’d tasted something sour. “Bit strong.” He breathed.

Niall giggled before he could stop himself.

“So…” Harry pushed the empty glass aside and turned in his seat to face him. Niall did the same, moving until their knees bumped together between them. “What are you doing here all by yourself? Everyone’s got to be dying to hang out with a sweet little plum like you.” Harry reached out and tapped Niall on the nose, smirking.

Sweet little plum. Niall sighed internally at the sickeningly fluffy endearment. But Harry’s knees were touching his, and Harry’s finger had tapped his nose, so Niall still melted into one of his wide, crinkly-eyed grins.

“Just thought I’d come in for a drink after my shift.” He replied, feeling a little lame after he’d said it. “What about you? What brings you out tonight?”

Harry’s smirk slowly stretched into a smile, and his eyes fell secretively to the bar counter. “I just thought it was time to get out and mingle a bit, you know. Hoped I’d see a familiar face.”

Me? Niall thought. Does he mean me?

“You’ll see a lot of those around here.” Niall said carefully, deciding to play it safe. He took another sip of his beer. “Not too much changes.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

For a moment neither of them spoke, just soaked in the atmosphere a bit. Harry’s legs knocked Niall’s back and forth to the rhythm of a song playing over the speakers. The bar was beginning to get a bit crowded, and the volume of the voices around them continued to rise, especially once the drinking started.

“So what’ve you been up to this week?” Niall dared after a while. Harry had started humming absentmindedly and nibbling on the fruit from his empty drink glass. He looked up when he heard Niall’s voice.

“Um,” He shook his head and lifted his eyebrows in sudden exasperation. “It’s the house I bought. It’s a mess, and I knew that…but I guess I didn’t realize how much of a mess, exactly.”

“Jesus, I’m sorry,”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t mind it much, really. I like taking on big projects. This morning I painted the door baby blue.”

Niall laughed, envisioning Harry in old clothes, covered in paint and biting his lip in concentration as he stroked the brush up and down… “Sounds like a good time. Is blue your favorite color or something?”

At this, a little color came into Harry’s cheeks, and once again, he averted his eyes, dimpling with a close-mouthed smile. “Well I think it’s growing on me, lately.”

 

***

For the next half hour or so, Niall and Harry talked a little bit about nothing and everything. Harry, Niall realized, was far more intelligent than he’d let on. Not only was he exceptionally well-read, but he also expressed a vast knowledge of space and biology.

“Sorry, I’m probably boring you,” Harry laughed, trailing off after explaining a theory about what would happen if someone were to travel inside of a black hole.

“No, no. I like it.” Niall interrupted, leaning forward in hopes that Harry would continue. Niall was hanging on every word he said, memorizing the low, raspy tones of his voice. “So time would stop all together, huh? That’s pretty cool.”

“It is. It is pretty cool.” Harry grinned. Then he glanced out onto the small dance floor at the back of the bar, seeming to be fascinated with the drunken dancing of the people there. “Enough space talk, Niall. Let’s go have some fun, yeah?” He grabbed Niall’s hand unexpectedly, sending that same electric shock up his fingers again as he led him out onto the dance floor.

“I’m not much of a dancer, if I’m honest.” Niall said, feeling a bit self conscious as Harry let him go and began hopping about and throwing his hands up with the music.

“Just let go! Relax!” Harry shouted over the song’s pulsing beat, twisting his hips and tilting his head from side to side with the music. He looked both ridiculous and mesmerizingly beautiful. It was enough to make Niall abandon his worries and join Harry in his fantastically terrible dance display.

“I think this is the best fun I’ve had in weeks!” Niall shouted to Harry four songs later, the two of them still moving and shaking. Harry beamed.

“You’re an amazing dance partner!” Harry moved in a bit closer to him, a bit of sweat beading up at his forehead and his smile wide, eyes still gleaming in the barely-there lights. Absentmindedly, maybe, his tongue slipped over his top lip, and his jaw seemed to clench just the slightest. Niall saw this and felt something stir within him. A hot, clenching need in his belly that intensified with every passing second he stood next to Harry.

“You. You are amazing.” Niall said boldly, staring back at Harry. “Absolutely stunning.”

Harry’s eyes widened just the slightest, alight with a quick deliberation. Both of them had stopped dancing and were standing still, lingering in a section of the dance floor that was almost totally immersed in darkness. 

When Harry didn’t reply, Niall thought maybe he’d overstepped. He started to open his mouth to apologize, but before he could, Harry grabbed hold of his biceps with a painfully tight grip and pushed him against the wall with a muffled thud. His body was pressed so close to his that Niall could feel Harry’s chest rise and fall with his breaths.

Niall was gasping, letting everything else fall away as Harry’s lips hovered just above his own, so close to touching that Niall could feel tiny trembling shocks prickle between them.

Kiss me, he thought. Please kiss me.

But Niall’s reeling thoughts of desperation and need were interrupted by a pain that shot through his entire body in a way that completely took his breath away. It was like someone had reached through his chest to grab his heart, squeezing the muscle as tight as they could. Niall’s vision went white, and his body froze in a terrifying paralysis of fear and excruciating pain.

He thought he was going to die right then and there. But in a little less than three seconds, the sensation passed, disappearing without warning just as it had come. Niall blinked, gasped for air, and clutched his chest where the phantom of the pain still remained.

When he regained his senses, he realized Harry was standing a few feet away from him, wide-eyed. “Are you okay?” He shouted over the still-pulsing music.

Niall stepped away from the wall, continuing to rub his chest even though he felt perfectly fine. “Yeah, I think so. Probably just a heart palpitation.” When he approached Harry, he noticed with a sting that Harry backed away, maintaining the distance between them.

“Um,” Harry glanced around the bar, avoiding Niall’s eyes. “Well, if you’re sure you’re okay… I should start making my way home. Got some more unpacking to do.”

Niall’s mind was spinning. Harry had been ready to kiss him a moment ago. What had happened since then? Was it his breath or something?

“You’re leaving?” Niall asked, feeling like he was being ripped apart down the middle.

Harry was already walking away, calling out to Niall over his shoulder as if he couldn’t wait to get lost. “Yeah—sorry mate! I’ll see you around!”

Niall started to follow him, but stopped himself. Instead, he watched as Harry slipped through the crowd towards the front door. At one point he stopped, and Niall thought he might have changed his mind, but he was just talking to a small, somewhat familiar-looking girl who was sitting at a table on her own. It was very odd; Harry smiled, shook her hand, and loosely gestured in Niall’s direction a few times before finally making his way out of the building entirely. When he left, the girl he’d spoken to rose from her seat and walked off into the crowd.

Niall was left alone. Again.

 

***

The next morning, Niall rolled over in bed and opened his eyes to the most fantastically painful hangover of his life. His skull was being split open by a hammer and a pick, and for a moment he seriously considered permanently stapling his eyelids shut.

His apartment was immersed in a muffled sort of light despite the closed blinds. Groaning, he threw the covers over his head. He had a million things to get done—ironically, even though he worked at the grocery store, he had no food in his fridge except half a Subway sandwich and a couple bananas that had gone all brown and gross. Also, he’d promised his dad he would cut the grass at his parents’ house in exchange for help with that month’s rent.

Instinctively, he reached up by his pillow to find his phone. He needed to know the time and maybe convince his dad to let him off the hook until tomorrow. But he felt nothing but mattress under his fingertips, and couple wide sweeps around the rest of the bed came up empty as well.

Shit. He might have left it at the bar. Memories of the night before slowly sulked back into his aching head one at a time.

 

First, and most painful, was the memory of how Harry deserted him after he’d experienced a heart palpitation on the dance floor. Bit of an asshole move, he thought bitterly, remembering the way Harry had backed away from him like he was some sort of animal.

Next, Niall remembered going back to sit at the bar-top and drinking three more beers in the span of an hour with a couple bathroom breaks in between. One to puke, one to wee. It wasn’t his best moment.

By the time he was downing his fourth pint since Harry’d left, a girl joined him and started making conversation. She was, Niall realized, the same girl Harry had spoken to on his way out. Her name was Mia Stonefly—a girl who’d been a couple years behind him in school and who he’d never really paid much attention to before. She was a tiny-framed strawberry blonde with a pair of hazel eyes that Niall found himself getting lost in. They talked for hours that night—she was funny, clever, and straightforward in a way that was tough but honest. Despite the pain he’d felt when Harry’d ditched him on the dance floor, Niall hadn’t laughed that much in ages.

A smile split over his face as he thought about it. At the end of the night, she hadn’t even let him hitch a ride. She told her friends to go on without her, and she drove an extremely inebriated Niall back home in his own car.

“Buh how will you get ‘ome?” Niall vaguely remembered slurring as she handed him his car keys back and gestured for him to go inside his apartment complex.

“I live in the same building, genius.” She’d laughed. “I see you around all the time.”

And then Niall couldn’t remember what came after that, but he knew they didn’t sleep together. He vaguely recalled her helping him to his door and then—after writing her phone number in black pen on his forearm—walked off to her own place, saying, “Sleep well, Nialler. Call me.”

“Shit.” No phone, no call. He groaned and sat up in bed, nearly vomiting into his own lap as he did so. After a while, he pulled on some clothes and walked out into the hall, no doubt looking like hell. If he could just figure out her apartment number, he could speak to her in person and…

No. No, that’s creepy, he thought. Just go get your phone and give her a call like a normal person. Don’t mess this up.

So he returned to his place, showered (carefully avoiding Mia’s phone number), brushed his teeth, and sprayed a bit of cologne at his neck to hide the scent of alcohol that was no doubt still leaking from his pores. When he was satisfied with himself, he grabbed his car keys and headed out.

 

***

 

The day was unfortunately bleak. Low-rolling storm clouds hung overhead, dark and threatening rain. Niall put on his sunglasses anyway though; even the slightest tinge of light in his eyes made his brain screech in agony.

His hands tapped against the steering wheel as he drove the long, narrow road that led to the main street. Tall, 50 year old trees lined either side of it, and the yellow line in the center was faded to almost nothing.

With nothing else to distract him, Niall’s mind began to wonder to Harry. He thought of all the interesting things they’d talked about, how their knees had bumped together under the bar-top, and when Harry said his favorite color was baby blue. He wondered what had gone so wrong that Harry just…left.

Niall was three levels deep into his own mind when he realized his car was slowing to a stop and smoking like the devil. “Fuck—” He shouted, frantically steering the car over to the almost non-existent shoulder. He took a few steps back from it and watched hopelessly as it continued to smoke and groan. Seemed like he’d finally managed to fry it.

“This is fucking great.” Niall muttered darkly, tangling his fingers in his hair as he considered his predicament. Car broken down. No cellphone. No one who knew where he was. He was going to have to see if he could get a ride into town.

So he waited. And waited. And waited for another car to come down the road. But by the way the sky was looking, it seemed most people had decided to stay home.

Niall laughed out loud. He stood there and laughed with his hair all wild and big, dark sunglasses taking up his face. He lifted both his hands to the sky and gave a couple middle fingers to the forces that be.

Then he started walking. Because what else could he do?

It was at least another three miles to town, and already he was freezing in his thin cotton t-shirt and ripped jeans. The sky continued to darken, turning an ominous green-black color along the heavy line of the mountaintops. Already there were lightening flashes in the clouds and deafening thunder strikes that followed shortly after. Not long after that, inevitably, it started to rain.

“Jesus,” Niall shuttered as the freezing drops rolled down his face and plastered his t-shirt to his chest. It was so dark out he could barely see now. He’d long ago taken the sunglasses off and hung them on a belt loop of his jeans, opting instead to squint through the pelting rain droplets and watch his step. Mia’s phone number was long gone from his forearm, washed away by the water.

Just as Niall was wondering whether he should make a run back to his car to wait out the rest of the storm—trees were swaying violently back and forth with the wind, and the rain had become unbearably cold against his body—he saw a flash of headlights coming his way.

“Hey!” Niall’s heart raced with adrenaline as he waved his arms and jumped up and down, wildly trying to get the driver’s attention. “Hey! Wait!”

But the car stopped before it even passed him, and Niall looked forward uneasily as the blindingly-bright headlights shone directly at him. His hang-over was temporarily subdued with his quickening pulse and the fear in his chest as he wondered whether getting into a random stranger’s car was even worth the risk.

“Niall! Hurry up and get in here!” A familiar voice shouted out to him from the driver’s side.

His breath caught in his throat, and suddenly he was sprinting for the car—a black Range Rover covered in mud from the tires to the middle of the doors—hastily climbing into the passenger seat and turning to look at his savior in disbelief. “Harry?! What the hell are you doing here?”

Harry looked over at Niall with a grin on his face. He was completely dry; dressed in the a navy flannel shirt, ripped blue jeans, and a heavy set of work boots. “A thank you works, too.” He said, checking his mirrors before putting the car in reverse and taking it back the way it came.

“Thank you, but—” Niall was temporarily distracted when Harry cranked up the heat in the car and Niall leaned in to warm his aching hands and face. “Harry, how did you even know where to find me?”

Keeping his eyes on the road, Harry shrugged. “I stalk your every move, Horan. I slept in your trash can last night.”

Niall laughed a bit, letting it go. He was far too tired to wonder where Harry had come from or how he knew to come at all. All he cared about was getting warm and resting his tired eyes…

 

***

 

Niall woke up in Harry’s car. Rain was still pelting the windows, but it was parked in front of a small ranch house with a pale blue door. When he looked to his left he saw Harry sitting in the driver’s seat, watching him with a thoughtful frown on his face.

“Did I fall asleep? I’m sorry,” Niall yawned, stretching. He was all dry and back to a normal temperature again, so he assumed he’d been napping for a while.

“It’s okay. You look really peaceful when you sleep.” Harry mumbled. Then, quickly, as if dismissing what he’d said, he tossed Niall a little black umbrella and got out of the car, opening his own identical one and shutting the door, hard. 

 

***

 

Harry’s house was near the top of the mountain; tucked neatly off the main road, surrounded by trees. It somehow managed to be cozy and warm while still looking like some sort of wild hoarder’s nest inside. There were boxes everywhere, some unpacked, and some completely overflowing with soft, patterned headbands and worn leather boots. But it was warm inside, and the lights were low and glowed a soft golden color throughout. After a moment, the two of them kicked their shoes off and lined them up neatly by the door. Then Harry led Niall into the kitchen; the only place that seemed to have reached any state of normalcy.

“Tea or hot chocolate?” Harry asked when Niall walked in and sat down at the kitchen table.

“Oh, hot chocolate. Please.” He replied, smiling at Harry, who was sliding across the hardwood floors in his socked feet. “Thank you for letting me stay here to wait out the storm.”

Harry glanced over his shoulder at him and smiled, a curl or two falling into his face. “Sure thing.”

Harry was acting normal again. Suddenly, inexplicably. And Niall didn’t understand it. His emotions felt scattered and unorganized; sloppily attaching to whoever he was with at the moment. Why did you ditch me yesterday? he wanted to ask. But that would make things awkward, and the storm didn’t look to be letting up any time soon, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Hot chocolate, extra whipped cream,” Harry announced proudly, setting the mug in front of Niall with a low clink. His smile faltered into a frown then, and he bit his lip. “You do like whipped cream, right? I didn’t even ask.”

“I’m alive, aren’t I?” Niall objected, licking a giant dollop of it from the top.

Harry sat down beside him, grinning. He mimicked Niall with his own mug, and laughed.

“I think you’ve got a bit of…” Niall reached out a finger to swipe a drop of cream from the side of Harry’s lips, then placed it in his own mouth to lick clean again.

For a long moment afterward, there was silence between the two of them. Harry’s eyes widened at him, and Niall’s grin faded away as he waited for things to get weird again.

“I think,” Harry said finally, reaching across the table to swipe at some cream under Niall’s chin, “You do as well.”

Niall felt a wave of relief wash over him, like breaking the surface to take a breath after sinking for days. Maybe he was just tired, or maybe Harry made it hard to be anything but elated in his presence, but Niall didn’t really care.

They talked for hours. First over their hot chocolates, then over a dinner of fresh tilapia and vegetables prepared by the both of them (Harry did most of the cooking; Niall mainly teased and caused trouble; tickling Harry whenever he got the chance and watching in delight as Harry’s face grew red with laughter and his voice crept upwards in excitement). 

Towards the end of the night, the rain had subsided to little more than a drizzle, and the two of them were lying on a bed of blankets and couch pillows they’d made on the living room floor. For the first time in ages, they fell silent and let their bodies settle down from all of the laughter and joking around. It was Niall who broke the spell first and spoke.

“I wish every night of my life could feel like this,” He said aloud. He was lying down on his back, gazing up at the ceiling, but he turned to look at Harry then, watching for his response. Harry was on his belly beside him, chin buried into a throw pillow, hair spilling down around his shoulders. He met Niall’s gaze after a while, a question in his eyes.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“I mean I had such a good time tonight. I was…happy.” Niall said slowly. “I haven’t felt happy in a long time.”

Harry propped his head up in his hand and waited patiently for him to continue.

“I don’t really like my life. At all.” Niall admitted. He couldn’t believe he was saying it—and to Harry, of all people—but he didn’t stop himself either. “My job is okay, I guess—Mr. Tram is a good boss—but I don’t like anything about it. And I don’t really speak to anyone around town anymore. All of my old friends moved away, and we lost touch.”

“Must get lonely,” Harry said softly.

Niall pressed his lips together, nodded. “Yeah. It does.”

“I know you think you’ve failed at a lot of things,” Harry continued. “But you have so much potential. You just have this… light in you. Like a little piece of the sun.” Harry dropped his eyes then, a small smile on his lips. “You remind me of home, Niall. That’s why I like you.”

Niall didn’t know what to say. Harry liked him. Lovely, witty, beautiful Harry liked him, and Niall could barely breathe.

“I—” He started to say, but suddenly a knot twisted in his belly, and Niall was doubling over in pain.

“Niall?” Harry’s voice was alarmed as he watched him get up and run in the direction of the bathroom.

Niall didn’t have time to do anything other than reach the sink and cough violently until he spit a couple dark red drops of blood onto the white porcelain.That had never happened to him before, and a bit of fear stirred within him at the sight.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I’ll just…see a doctor Monday morning.” Niall whispered to himself in the mirror. He turned the water on and washed the blood droplets away until the sink was clean again. When he walked out of the bathroom, he saw Harry standing at the front door, boots on, keys in hand, looking a bit wild-eyed.

“I um, I think it’s time we call it a night.” He said, his foot tapping restlessly on the floor. “Come on; I’ll take you back home.”

“What’s going on?” Niall asked, not moving. The sudden change of atmosphere was making him uneasy.

“Doesn’t matter. We’ve got to go.”

And there it was again. The sting of rejection, still raw from the first time. Niall could hear his pulse pounding in his ears, loud and impossible to ignore even as he spoke. “Is this some sort of game for you?” He gritted out, glaring at Harry. “You show feelings for someone and then push them away immediately after?”

Harry’s eyes were red and glassy, his jaw clenching as he shook his head. “Niall please,”

“I really, really like you, Harry.” Niall continued, feeling his anger course through him. He clenched his fists. “…Everything about you.”

“I…” Harry bit his lip and averted his eyes downwards, looking so shaken up he might’ve fallen apart.

Niall walked to him then, daring to run a finger through Harry’s hair. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”

Harry lifted his head and met Niall’s eyes again, tears streaming down his face. He looked genuinely broken, and Niall wanted to kiss it all away. Wanted to hold Harry long into the night, fall asleep with his nose pressed to the soft skin of his neck…

After a while, with what seemed to be a Herculean effort, Harry finally forced the word out, hard and loaded, falling like a stone between them. “Okay.”

 

***

 

For several minutes, Harry said nothing. Just paced back and forth in the living room, stomping along the narrow strip of floor by the window that was the only part not covered with blankets. Niall stood in the center of it, his socked feet feeling slightly unsteady on the lumps and bumps of the old quilts and soft furry covers. He didn’t know what to expect from Harry; he just wanted an explanation.

“Here’s the thing,” Harry finally stopped pacing and faced Niall from a few feet away. He looked a little panicked. “What I’m about to do is against the rules. Against all the rules. But I want you to know, Niall.”

Niall placed his palms on his jeans, hoping to wipe away the nervous sweat. He didn’t understand, but shakily, he replied, “You don’t have to tell me if it’s going to get you in trouble, Harry. We can just—”

Harry waved him away. “Just don’t tell anyone, okay? Promise me?”

Niall nodded, his heart thundering in his chest. He waited then; waited for Harry to open his mouth and spill out whatever it was he’d been holding in. But Harry said nothing. He just stood there, staring back at Niall as if he were waiting for a go-ahead.

“Harry?” Niall asked, taking an uneasy step forward. But then he saw it; a ripple in the air so minuscule that he was sure he’d imagined it. And then it happened several more times; little inconsistencies in the air around Harry’s form, as if the light in the room was being manipulated to bend at new angles and curves. Harry held out his arms a ways from his sides then, and Niall watched in amazement as golden scales—or maybe something other than scales—licked up his skin in one sweeping movement until every part of his flesh was covered in them, until Harry as a whole was glowing like a giant gilded cup.

“Fucking amazing!” Niall blurted, looking Harry up and down with genuine astonishment. “How the hell do you do that?”

Harry took a step toward Niall, and it was like the air around him followed, creating an oddly unsteady blur along his figure that rippled like water every time he made a move. Niall was a bit taken back by it, but he didn’t flinch. Not even when he looked into Harry’s eyes and realized they were glowing a rich, amber color instead of their usual green.

 

***

 

Niall blinked once, and suddenly it was all gone.The image he’d been staring at returned to just Harry; wide-eyed, curly-haired, completely normal-looking Harry. It was enough to make Niall stumble backwards a little, nearly falling into the blankets on the floor.

“You didn’t imagine it, it’s okay.” Harry assured him. He looked a bit rattled himself; anxiously tapping his boot against the floor and waiting for Niall to say something; anything.

After a moment, he did. “So what was that?”

Harry hesitated a few seconds before replying, “That’s what I really look like. Kinda my birthday suit, I guess.” He grinned at his own joke and Niall felt himself smiling, too, despite the unique circumstance.

“Not bad,” Niall commented. Then, “No offense, but what—what…are you?”

Harry bit his lip, thinking. Finally, he replied, “I guess you could say I’m like a Guardian Angel? Kind of? I’m not really from here, you know. My job is just to go around offering help where help is needed.”

“Aren’t you supposed to have wings?” Niall managed to joke. “Or do you have to, like, rescue a kitten from a tree or something to have them come in?”

Harry actually gave him the finger at that and then dissolved into a brief fit of laughter. “Let’s just sit down, okay?”

The living room was small, and especially cramped with all the boxes and blankets scattered around the place. But the two of them took a seat on Harry’s slightly worn, slightly lumpy, wine-colored couch and faced each other, sitting cross-legged on the cushions like they were in kindergarten readying for story time.

“So…” Niall leaned his elbows onto his knees and propped his chin up in his hands, staring at Harry with a small smile. “Tell me more about how you’re a sweet little cherub now, Harry.”

Harry, stared back at Niall; face soft and welcoming, hair falling in silky curls along his shoulders. Then his face split into a grin so wide he actually brought his hands to his face to hide behind them. Niall pulled them away, of course, holding them in his own and watching the mesmerizing image of Harry’s reddened, dimpled cheeks and slightly watery eyes as he tried to straighten up enough to make out words.

“You’re just so relaxed about this.” He finally managed, glancing up at Niall, then back down at their hands, laced together at the fingers. Niall looked down, too, watching himself trace lazy circles onto Harry’s skin with his thumb. “I was sure you’d be running by now.”

Niall made a scoffing sound in his throat and shook his head. “Have more faith in me than that. I’m not the most religious man in the world, but I know there are some things out there I can’t explain.”

One of Harry’s hands broke free from its hold to reach up and nip lovingly at the blonde locks of hair on Niall’s head. Harry’s eyes were wandering and thoughtful in an unhurried type of way that made Niall feel peaceful and lost within himself in the best of ways.

“I wouldn’t say religion has anything to do with it. Not necessarily.” Harry murmured after awhile. “If there is a God…let’s just say I haven’t had the chance to introduce myself yet.”

Niall chuckled. “Really… So you’re not from here and you are—arguably—not from heaven, so where is it you lay your head, Styles?”

Harry gave a small, bittersweet smile at that. “It’s not somewhere I can go back to, sadly…” And he trailed off a moment before continuing. “I was born from the sun. Several…years ago. I don’t really want to go into detail, but yeah.”

“Fucking hell, Harry,” Niall breathed. “…So when you said I remind you of home…”

“You’re like human sunshine,” Harry grinned, tugging gently on one particularly unruly lock of Niall’s hair. Niall leaned into it, a laugh bubbling up from his chest. “See?”

“Yeah I get it. I’m adorable.” Niall replied, mussing his hair back to normal. “But if you like me so much then why do you keep pushing me away?”

Silence fell between them like a brick wall. Harry’s smile slowly disappeared from his lips, and suddenly he wouldn’t look Niall in the eye. “We just…don’t fit.”

Niall tried to ignore the way his heart ripped at the words, but he couldn’t, and his next words came out angry and wilting with the threat of a cry grasping at his throat. “So you like me, but you don’t like me enough to be with me that way. That’s it, isn’t it?” Niall started to get up from the couch then, but Harry wouldn’t let him.

“No—no, that’s never been it.” Panicking, Harry gripped Niall’s hand tighter, begging for a chance to explain. “We are…incompatible. Biologically.”

“English, Harry, English.” Niall gritted.

“You and me—we’re toxic to each other. Dangerous. Poisonous. Every time we’re together, it’s like downing a small dose of arsenic.” Harry rushed out. “The longer we stay like this, the sicker we’ll get.”

After everything else that had already happened that night, Niall’s brain was swimming. “Sick? I feel f—” But then he remembered; the “heart palpitations”, the throwing up blood. “Shit…. Shit. Isn’t there something we can do? Can’t you fix this, Apollo? O’ God of Light?”

Harry frowned irritably. “So you know about Greek Mythology but you don’t understand the word ‘biologically’?”

“God, Harry!—” Niall nearly shouted. “What do we do about this? How do we stop it?”

Harry’s eyes were a cloudy green under his lashes, and his jaw clenched, as if he were trying to hold back tears himself. “We don’t; it is what it is.”

“Bullshit—” Niall stood in one swift movement and placed the heels of his hands to his eyes. “You are…the best thing that’s happened to me in years, Harry. I know I haven’t known you for long but… I can’t lose you, okay?”

Harry swiveled forward on the couch so that his feet were firmly planted on the floor. His head in his hands, his hair spilling over them like a gleaming mahogany river. “Either we end this now or one of us is going to end up dead.” Harry mumbled. “I couldn’t live with myself if it were you. And it probably would be; humans take it harder.”

“Well that’s my decision isn’t it?” Niall asked, desperation seeping into his voice. Harry was right there. Right there in front of him; all soft curves and tanned skin, wanting him back in a way that Niall had never been wanted before. The thought of being so close to him and not being able to touch him or hold him made something ugly churn in the pitt of his stomach.

Niall waited, but when Harry didn’t respond, he continued. “I’m young, I’m strong. We’ll take it slow. We’ll be careful.” He reached out a hand and touched his finger to Harry’s chin, lifting it up until Harry was looking at him. It broke Niall’s heart to see him like that; glassy-eyed, flushed cheeks, sniffling nose under a defeated frown. “You can’t stop me from caring about you, Harry.”

For a few seconds, everything else in the world seemed to hold still; a calm where even the slightest disturbance would ruin the delicate balance of the moment. So fragile and fleeting it was like balancing a bubble on the tip of your finger. Niall knelt down in front of Harry, parting knees with his body and placing his palms to the soft curves of Harry’s damp, tear-stained cheeks.

“What are you doing…” Harry whispered. But he knew; he just watched as Niall moved closer to him, swallowed hard as soft lips found the skin of his neck and trailed kisses up to his jaw. “It’s not safe, Niall…” He murmured the objection even as his hands found the expanse of Niall’s back and gripped the fabric of his shirt.

“We’ll be careful,” Niall promised, his lips hovering just over Harry’s so that his words created odd little vibrations between them. The two of them locked eyes then; half a second of blue and green; bright, clear, alive, connected, and then Niall placed his mouth on Harry’s, sending them both tumbling, wildly and without direction into a space all their own.

 

***

 

Niall woke up the next morning alone on Harry’s couch. His feet were neatly tucked into a blanket, and he liked to think he could still feel the phantom of goodnight kisses along his forehead, but his heart ached at the thought of Harry getting up and leaving him in the middle of the night. Of Harry lying awake in his arms, so afraid of the consequences of their closeness that he couldn’t relax.

He found a long, curly brown hair on the couch pillow beside his face though, and that made him smile.

“Morning sunshine,” Harry walked around the corner then, body long and lean in a soft white t-shirt and blue jeans rolled down over his brown leather boots. He was grinning brightly as ever, and he looked so beautiful Niall’s heart skipped a beat or two.

“Morning, Sun,” Niall smirked, reaching out to Harry and letting his tall, slim figure curl up against him on the narrow sofa. Harry was nearly suffocating Niall against the couch because of the lack of space, but Niall didn’t care. Frankly, he couldn’t think of a better way to go out.

“Did you sleep well?” Harry murmured, his breathing slowing at the soft, lazy touches of Niall’s fingers in his hair.

“Yeah,” Niall scratched at Harry’s scalp a bit, and felt a shock of electricity run through his body at the quiet moan that slipped out in response. “Would have slept better with you.”

Harry chuckled at that and twisted around to face Niall on the couch. If anyone else were seeing them at that moment, Niall was sure they looked ridiculous; two fully grown men trying to cuddle on a couch that was more of an over-hyped love seat than anything else. But Harry’s eyes were a mesmerizing shade of green, and they were staring right at him, so he didn’t much care about how it looked. “Aren’t you just the charmer…” Harry mumbled, his lips wet and pink, still grinning at Niall like they couldn’t stop. Niall never wanted them to.

Had it really only been a week since they’d met? It felt like months.

“I’m not going home today,” Niall said, a little abruptly, and Harry raised an eyebrow in response. “Sorry, it’s just… before you get it into your mind to try and run me off again… I’m not going anywhere.”

Harry laughed, burrowing his head into Niall’s neck and pressing little kisses into the skin there. “Honestly, I don’t think I’d have the strength to at this point…” He said. And when he looked back up at Niall, there was still a smile on his lips, but his eyes had gone all sad around the edges.

“Hmm…” Niall nodded, a serious expression on his face as he pretended to think on something very important. “Well that must mean you don’t have enough strength for this either, huh?” And Niall reached for Harry’s sides before he had a chance to squirm away, tickling his skin all over, loving the delighted yelps and squeals of laughter from Harry as he did so.

Pretty soon, they’d both fallen onto the floor, noisily moving around in a blur of limbs, taking turns pinning one another beneath a relentless tickling torment, and laughing loudly the entire time. At one point, Harry hovered over Niall; breathless, face flushed red, cheeks dimpled deeply as he gasped out his excitement. The neck of his t-shirt had been stretched out some from where Niall had pulled on it, and it was easy to see down his chest, to the dark tattoos that resided there. A golden cross dangled down from his neck, closing the gap between them to rest just under Niall’s chin. For a long time neither of them said anything; just let their breathing settle back to baseline and their faces relax into normal expressions again. The whole time, however, Niall was acutely aware of the heavy weight of Harry’s erection pressing against his thigh. Hard and demanding through his jeans. Niall shuttered uncontrollably at the sensation, an embarrassingly needy groan emitting from the back of his throat.

“Crap, I’m sorry, Niall, I—” Harry started to pull away when he realized; fear in his eyes suddenly. But Niall grasped at his wrist.

“Wait—”

“We can’t.” Harry whispered, and it looked like his eyes were studying Niall’s face, jumping from his eyes to his mouth to his cheeks.

“Do you want to?” Niall asked.

“But… we can’t—”

“Do you want to?” He insisted. And he waited as Harry swallowed hard and closed his eyes for a moment. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but then he just sighed and stood up, walking off in the direction of the kitchen before Niall could protest. Niall didn’t follow him, and Harry didn’t ask him to.

 

***

 

Afterwards, Niall busied himself and his mind with cleaning up. He always found that clean surroundings helped to think a little more clearly. And that morning, his thoughts were like wading through sludge, so he’d probably be busy for a while.

Harry had so many boxes he’d still yet to unpack. And there didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the lot of it. Clothing was mashed in with books and a shower curtain was tangled around an expensive-looking kitchen mixer. Niall didn’t have a clue where to start, but he started anyway. In no time, he’d nearly cleared out the living room entirely—separating and organizing the content of the boxes and taking them to their respective places in the little house. Niall found Harry’s bedroom especially intriguing, if only because it smelled like him, and he liked seeing Harry’s things scattered across the top of the old dresser, his sheets still flipped back and rumpled from a night of sleep. Niall himself liked to keep things neat, but there was something oddly beautiful about the way Harry left a room—like he was still there, or like it was just a snapshot in time, and Harry would come walking around the corner at any moment. Niall hoped he did; Harry had left the house not long after their interaction that morning, and he hadn’t told Niall where he was going.

Mentally… emotionally… Niall was strung out; constantly looking out the window, jumping every time he thought he heard the rumble of a car engine outside. But physically, he hated to admit that he did feel much better. He hadn’t even realized how lethargic he’d been feeling until he was able to carry boxes back and forth for an hour without hardly breaking a sweat. He could breathe clearly, and he could feel the blood pumping easy through his veins. Although not as hard as they did when he was around Harry.

Harry didn’t have a lot of pictures. None at all really, except just one that Niall found at the bottom of one of the boxes he’d been unpacking. It was an old picture; so old that the folds in the paper were one sturdy tug away from ripping completely. White creases rippled over most of it like a burst of lightening you could run your fingers over, and the image was completely in black and white. ‘H. Styles, 1936’ was written in scrawling handwriting on the back.

Niall sucked his breath in at the whole of it. Blurry and worn down as it may be, he could still recognize the easy grin and warm eyes beneath the flat cap over his head. Dark curls, much shorter here, curled around his ears and peaked out from his hat to rest along his forehead. Aside from the clothing and the haircut, however, Harry looked exactly the same. From the dimples in his cheeks to the leaning stance he pulled against the wooden slatted wall of a small house. The familiarity of it all, despite the time difference of nearly eighty years, made Niall’s head spin. But it also prompted a warmth in his heart that made him smile wide enough to embarrass himself alone in the empty bedroom. Carefully, he placed the picture into a slot in his wallet to ask Harry about some other time.

 

***

 

Two hours later, and Harry still wasn’t back; Niall was beginning to worry.

He wanted to call him, but he still didn’t have his phone, and even if he did, he cringed at the realization that he didn’t have Harry’s number stored in it anyway.

So Niall stayed in the house, glancing out the window every five minutes, not unlike a nervous puppy waiting for his human to return. He actually laughed at that thought, and decided he was being silly. Harry was probably just in a mood again, right? He seemed to get those a lot. Niall supposed he would have a lot of moods, too, if he was old as dirt.

He spent a good fifteen minutes just sipping on some tea from the kitchen and thinking up some really great ‘old jokes’ to tease Harry with later. Like, ‘You’re so old, you were alive when the Big Bang was just a Tiny Clink’, and other such gems. And they made him laugh for a while, but pretty soon he was back to work again, distracting himself from his own mind. There actually wasn’t as much work as he’d previously thought, though, so by the time the sun was just starting to sink in the sky, he had the house completely put together, looking like a picture straight out of Good Housekeeping if he did say so himself. Not only were all of Harry’s things put away, but the floors were swept, everything was dusted, pillows were fluffed, dishes were done. Niall didn’t think he’d ever had as much energy or motivation in his entire life. It was a little bit scary, actually. Any other time, a project like that would have taken him a week and a half to even get properly started.

Niall made himself another cup of tea and decided to just go sit out on the front porch. His stomach twisted painfully at the sight of the still-empty drive, but he ignored it and sat down in an old fold-out chair that was leaning against the porch railing. It looked like it had been there since long before Harry had moved in, so Niall had to dust off the layer of dirt first and try not to sneeze. When he looked to his left, his heart jumped a bit in excitement. He hadn’t noticed it there before, but there was a guitar right next to where the chair had been, propped up against the wall of the house. It was slightly hidden behind some overgrown foliage that was snaking its way through the slats of the porch railing, but Niall pulled it out and blew away the layer of debris, grinning when the true honey color of the wood showed, looking damn near brand new despite the conditions it had withstood.

In a good five minutes or so, Niall had the strings tuned, and he was already drumming a melody onto the body of the guitar with his fingers. It had been years since he’d played anything. His father had taught him how as a little boy, and Niall remembered having the fierce desire to tour the world, just him and his guitar, playing the strings until his fingers cramped, hearing the crowds applaud. The memory hit him in the chest like he’d been struck by something hard. It had been such a big part of his childhood, that wish. And somehow, he’d just… forgotten about it somewhere along the way. The realization of it had his fingers trembling, even as he positioned them over the strings and began to play.

It was just a simple tune. Nothing fancy, nothing particularly beautiful. But the sound of the notes, reverberating into the air, hovering for several seconds until they tapered out completely, woke something in Niall that had his head spinning. This nostalgic headspace of a time when he was content—happy even—and all he really wanted to do was play his guitar and have a good time. It’s hard to describe the feeling, and Niall was glad nobody was pressing him to find the words, but he’d probably liken it to the feeling you get on the days you walk outside in the morning, look at the sky, smell the air, feel the wind nip at your face, and you’re instantly transported back to your first day of kindergarten, or that one Thanksgiving when you were seven and you ate too much turkey. It’s that crazy feeling of turning back time, letting the years fall away and finding a piece of yourself you’d completely forgotten was there.

“Amazing. Even the crickets shut up long enough to listen to you, Niall.”

Niall nearly fell out of his chair at the deep, syrupy voice speaking to him from a few feet down the drive. He looked up to see Harry there, smiling, his truck parked and looking to have a stack of wooden planks hanging out the back, among other things. Harry took his time walking up the porch steps to him, hands in his pockets, his boots thumping softly on the worn-down wood that creaked under his weight. He stopped when he reached the top, and just sort of stood there awkwardly, not moving any closer.

“Sorry, I um, thought I’d go to the store,” He said quietly, clearly noting the way Niall was staring daggers at him. “I would have said something, but you would have asked to come, too, and—”

Niall hadn’t really felt angry that Harry had left him behind. All morning, he’d just been worried; worried that Harry still didn’t feel the same way about him, worried that the little happiness bubble they’d been in the night before had burst, and worried that maybe something had happened to Harry and he was hurt, lying out in the woods somewhere calling for help. But the anger didn’t come until Harry was standing in front of him with that stupid smirk on his face, looking happy and completely relaxed, despite all the stress he’d caused Niall all day long. Add to that his seeming aversion to having Niall accompany him on a trip to town, and suddenly he was absolutely livid.

“I had no idea where you were.” Niall snapped, setting the guitar aside and standing to walk over to Harry. He was the shorter of the two, but not by much, and despite his small frame, he was all muscle. Maybe he wouldn’t win in a brawl against Harry, but he could certainly hold his own. “You could have at least had the decency to leave a note.” Harry winced at that, and Niall couldn’t help but feel a little smug at his discomfort.

“I… I hadn’t thought of that.” Harry scratched his head nervously. “I guess I just figured—”

“You figured wrong.” Niall shoved at Harry’s shoulder roughly. “Jesus, I’m sorry my company has been such an inconvenience to you.”

“Niall, wait—” Harry followed Niall as he went back into the house, and Niall heard him gasp as he walked over the threshold behind him. “Holy shit, you did all of this?”

Niall resisted the urge to smile at Harry’s curse. It sounded mildly ridiculous coming out of his mouth for some reason. “Yeah, I did.” He said simply, keeping his face straight and turning to meet Harry’s eyes. But Harry was wandering around the place, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at all the work Niall had done. And as irritating as it was, Niall couldn’t help but feel his heart warm at the grin on Harry’s face. He looked so thrilled, and his eyes were lit up like it was Christmas morning.

“Thank you,” Harry finally said, walking up to Niall and hugging him firmly, despite their fight a moment ago. Niall just stood there for a moment, brooding, but Harry smelled so nice, and the way he was holding him felt so safe that he just wanted to fall into his embrace and sleep for a week.

“You’re welcome,” Niall sighed into Harry’s neck, finally giving up at being angry. It was a pathetic attempt anyway.

“I really didn’t mean to worry you,” Harry pulled away just enough to look into Niall’s eyes. The sincerity was there, honest and empathetic to a sickening degree, and Niall was mesmerized. “I was just so scared for you.”

“Scared for me?” Niall asked, his eyebrows furrowing deeply in confusion. “Why?”

Harry bit his lip, looking surprisingly childlike for someone who’d lived as many years as he had. “When I saw your face this morning, you looked so… pale. And sickly. Like you had the flu or something.”

Niall laughed, but it was hard around the edges as he tried to comprehend what Harry was saying. “I didn’t feel sick though,” He protested.

Harry blinked, and he looked so incredibly sorry that Niall felt his skin start to itch. “You probably should have.”

Niall didn’t know what to say to that for a long time, so he didn’t. Just let Harry hold him and rock their bodies slowly side to side for a while. “So you left, hoping I would feel better,” He murmured. And he felt Harry nod against his hair.

“We’re playing a dangerous game here, Ni.” Harry murmured, and Niall heard the weight in his voice as he said it. “I don’t want to overstep our limits.”

Niall let out a shaky breath then, breaking the hug to wrap his arms around himself instead. He knew what he was getting himself into. He understood the consequences. But he also understood that Harry wasn’t someone he wanted to give up. “We’ll go slow.” He said. And he nodded, working to convince himself more than Harry. “We’ll be careful, and everything will be fine.”

“Ni—” Harry started to say, but Niall shut him up with a kiss to the lips, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck and tugging him deeper into it. They stayed like that for several minutes, hands roaming over each other’s bodies, breathing quickening, pressing hard into each other until there was barely any space between them at all. And it was amazing—absolutely addicting—but Niall wanted to show Harry he could control himself, so he was the first to break the kiss. Pulling away from Harry and looking up into his confused, needy face. Lips still wet and bright pink, parted in a way that said they weren’t done yet. It was the hardest thing Niall ever had to do; ignoring a ready, wanting Harry in his arms only to suggest they start making some dinner instead. But Harry nodded and stepped back a bit, leaving some room between them that felt like ten feet instead of ten inches. But if they were going to be together, they’d have to have some self control. God help them.

 

***

After that night, he and Harry found themselves settling into a routine of sorts. It was was easy and natural; just an unspoken agreement between them that neither of them questioned. Niall woke up in the mornings alone, sometimes on the couch, sometimes in Harry’s bed. And it upset him, knowing that Harry had slipped away from him sometime during the night, but only for a moment before Harry was with him again, smiling, kissing his lips and his eyes and his nose. “You awake yet?” He teased, biting gently at the skin of Niall’s neck, his fingers dancing over the skin of his chest. And Niall would nod because yes, he was wide awake, and he still couldn’t believe he wasn’t dreaming. 

They’d eat breakfast shortly afterwards; something simple like toast or oatmeal, and they’d talk quietly across the table from each other as they watched the sun peak over the line of trees in the horizon. The kitchen would be cast in soft blues and pinks and yellows then, making shadows across Harry’s face and illuminating his skin. It was calm and easy, and there was never a moment that Niall felt he couldn’t stay there forever. 

Throughout the day, they’d split up, working on odd jobs around the house. Things that needed fixing, or painting, or adjusting—and there were a lot of them. One afternoon, Harry worked on the creaky front porch step while Niall fixed the faulty window latch. They made faces at each other the whole time through the glass, dissolving into laughter and nearly screwing up their work because of it. Harry very nearly pounded his finger with a hammer on several occasions. 

But the evenings were Niall’s favorite; after dinner, he and Harry would sit out on the front porch, listening to the nighttime sounds of the woods as the day came to a close and the blues and blacks took over the reds and the oranges. There was a swing on the front porch now; something Harry’d put in a few days back. It wasn’t very big, and it wasn’t very comfortable, but Harry seemed to like it, and he let Niall huddle up beside him, head resting on Harry’s shoulder as he plucked out a few melodies on the old guitar. Most of the time, Harry hummed along to Niall’s playing; soft and deep from the base of his throat, his fingers tracing patterns into the back of his head. Playing with tufts of blonde hair there until Niall leaned into his touch with a smile. 

And eventually playful touching turned to something a little more urgent, a little more thrilling. Niall lived for the moments when Harry would reach over to place a hand over his, stalling his fingers on the guitar strings only to bring them up to tangle in his curls. The guitar was set aside, quickly forgotten as they turned their focus on each other, lips wet and soft, breathing slow—until it wasn’t so slow anymore and hips were rutting together, hands grasping a little tighter, moans slipping over their lips and getting lost in the night long before anyone would ever hear them. 

Harry liked to whisper things in Niall’s ears as he rubbed his thumb over the sensitive spots on his neck, and Niall would curse and arch his back, already fumbling with the zipper of Harry’s jeans. It was hot and needy, with all the excitement of first-time lovers, but it only went on for so long before one of them would have to pull away, coughing, dizzy, light-headed, sick to their stomach. It wasn’t just Niall, either; it was killing them both. 

So Niall would make his way into the house and climb under the covers of Harry’s bed, sucking in the smell of him, trying to calm his mind down long enough to go to sleep. And he listened as the engine of Harry’s car started up in the driveway, the tires backing up over gravel and dirt, taking him further away. It was always dark when Harry left, and he didn’t come back till morning. Niall didn’t know where it was that he went every night. He didn’t know if he slept—did he ever?—or if he just drove around aimlessly until the sun came up. But Niall just wished he could be there with him, wherever it was. 

 

***

Before Harry mentioned it, the thought had never even crossed Niall’s mind that this thing between them might not last forever. It wasn’t even like he’d pictured the two of them living out the rest of their lives together—or Niall’s life, at least—becoming an old married couple of the oddest sorts; one gray-haired and decrepit, the other bright-eyed and misleadingly youthful. He hadn’t thought about what would happen next year, or next month, even. Something about the little house at the top of the mountain, with the beautiful sunrises and long afternoons working a couple feet away from an angel with eyes the color of freshly-cut grass… made him lose track of the time in a way that was almost alarming. The days ran into each other like bleeding paint on a canvas, creating one surreal, fantastically beautiful moment in his mind. A moment he never wanted to let go of.

“What are my plans?” Niall repeated, turning the words over on his tongue even though they were scalding him. They were lying in Harry’s bed; Niall newly awake with shocks of blonde hair going this way and that, and Harry still in his jeans and a soft, old t-shirt, but with his boots kicked off onto the floor. He’d come back that morning and kissed Niall awake with impatient lips, like he’d been waiting all night to touch him. 

“Yeah,” Harry murmured, looking at Niall with a steady gaze. He was resting his cheek on a pillow, his curls falling over his face slightly as he stared up at him. “Like when this is ov—”

Niall shook his head. He turned to Harry and smiled, but he could feel the way it was tugged down at the edges, giving his true feelings away. “I don’t—” He tried to talk, but there was a knot in his throat, and he ended up just blinking hard and trying not to cry. It was pathetic, and he knew his cheeks were bright red with embarrassment. 

“Come on, Ni. If you cry, I cry,” Harry chuckled, reaching out to pull him over. For a moment or two, Niall just scooted closer, pulling the blankets tighter around them until they were nearly nose to nose and he could slat their legs together under the sheets. “I’m not going anywhere right now.”

“But you are going somewhere…eventually.” Niall hated how clingy he sounded. They’d only been whatever they were for a week and a half, so why did the thought of Harry leaving him feel like he was being punched in the chest?

Harry was quiet for a long time. In his eyes, Niall could see all the thoughts whirring through his head, somehow crowding out the silence in the room, like Niall could actually hear them. “We can’t keep going like this.” Was all he said in reply.

“Are you feeling sick?”

“No.”

“Do you wanna stop?”

“No.”

“Well neither do I, what the fuck, Harry?”

Niall sat up again, feeling suddenly claustrophobic in the little room with Harry’s arms wrapped tight around him. His heart was thrumming away at a dangerous speed in his chest, and he felt a bit like he might throw up. But this wasn’t from the poisoning. This was a different kind of sickness.

“Hey,” Harry sat up as well and brought Niall in close to rest his head against his chest. Harry’s heart was beating fast, too. That was a comfort, in a way. “It’s not something we have to think about right now, okay? I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you.”

And Niall believed him. They stayed in bed the rest of the morning that day; kissing a lot, working themselves up until they were panting into each other’s mouths. Niall reached down to unbuckle Harry’s pants at one point, and for the first time, Harry let him. “Fuck,” He groaned as he finally felt Harry in his hand; thick and heavy and dripping onto his fist. He pumped him twice and watched, mesmerized, as Harry closed his eyes and shuttered pleasurably at the contact. “So beautiful,” Niall whispered, stroking faster, working the full length of him and watching precum bead up at his tip. Harry was fucking up into his hand before long, gripping the covers, moaning through gritted teeth. He was so tense, it was like he was afraid to really let himself go. 

“Babe,” Niall murmured, barely aware of what he was saying as he stared down at the almost pained face of pleasure Harry was making as he got close. His brows were furrowed, his eyes squeezed shut, and his lips were muttering something unintelligible that Niall could barely hear. “Babe… fuck this is so hot… babe…. relax…. relax….” He watched as Harry very slowly relaxed into the mattress, his body writhing a little bit under Niall’s gaze. And maybe it was his imagination, but he thought he saw a flicker of gold appear up the side of Harry’s neck and along the line of his jaw. Blurring the air around him like a desert mirage, just for those few seconds.

Harry came with a low grunt then, stilling in Niall’s hands as his orgasm pulsed through him.

“God, that was so fucking hot,” Niall moaned, burying his face in Harry’s neck; biting, sucking, licking the skin there. “You came so hard for me…”

Harry didn’t respond.

“Babe?” Niall pulled away from his neck, frowning. Harry’s eyes were closed, and he wasn’t moving. Niall pressed his hands to his face, cupping his cheeks in his palms. “Harry, wake up.” When he didn’t, Niall’s brain turned to static. “Harry—fuck, Harry, wake up. Wake up!” He shook his shoulders a bit, pressed his head to his chest—and okay, okay, he was still breathing. But the nearly-imperceptible rise and fall of his chest was the only sign that he was alive.

Niall was one ‘1’ away from dialing 911 when Harry’s eyes fluttered open and he glanced at Niall with a dazed look on his face. “What happened?” He slurred. 

 

***

 

Harry blacked out. That was it, thankfully, but they’d been lucky. Niall felt like an idiot for not taking it all serious enough. Harry was risking his life every day that went past of them kissing and spending the hours together. And that was too much to ask of anyone. 

“Niall, I’m fine. See?” Harry grinned and did a ridiculous little dance, pointing and wiggling his hips. 

“I don’t believe you. Do a hand stand.” Niall muttered. It was morning, and Niall was sitting at the table, eating cereal and pretending to read the box. Harry had been trying to cheer him up ever since the night before, but without any luck. 

“Ni,” Harry whined, kind of deflating on the spot. He looked like a sad clown. 

“I’ll be your Ni again in a couple days, but right now I don’t want to take any chances.” He replied, a smile twitching at the edges of his lips. If he wasn’t careful, Harry would wear him down. 

“Come here,” He said, his voice suddenly low and gravelly as he looked at Niall. He placed his hands on the table, the veins and tendons straining beneath the skin as his grip tightened on the wooden edge. Niall stopped mid-chew and looked up at him, feeling his heart stall out for a moment. “Come here,” Harry repeated again, a soft, teasing smile on his face as he leaned forward on the table, cross necklace swinging out from around his neck. 

Niall could feel his resolve crumbling. Harry was not easy to turn down, and he knew it. The smug, beautiful bastard. “Sorry, no,” Niall managed to shake his head and stand up, removing himself from Harry’s unrelenting bedroom gaze before he changed his mind. The sad little groan of protest that Harry made as Niall left the room didn’t help either. 

 

***

 

For the next two days, Niall held strong. Harry was gorgeous and alluring, and oh-so-persuasive, but all it took was remembering the way his heart had literally stopped beating when he saw Harry lying motionless on that bed. The feeling of dread that crept through his veins; ice cold and heavy in a way he’d never known possible. They’d gone too far that time, and Niall was determined to have more self control. if anything happened to Harry because of him—

He didn’t want to think about it.

“Haz?” Niall peeked around the corner of the living room, still in his pajamas. They’d finished the house renovations days ago, so Harry was just sitting on the couch, reading. His shirt was unbuttoned down to his butterfly tattoo, and his jeans were ripped at the knees. He looked perfect, as always. Niall doubted there would ever be a time where he found Harry to be anything less. When he heard Niall’s voice, Harry looked up from his book, his head tilted thoughtfully as he waited for Niall to speak. “I’d like to come sit with you—if you’ll have me.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his face. “Well hurry up, I’m not getting any younger, Horan.”

So Niall went over and laid down on the couch beside him, stretching out his feet a bit and resting his head in Harry’s lap. He blinked up at the ceiling for a moment, but then Harry was leaning over, examining him with a thoughtful frown. 

“What are you doing?” Niall asked, a chuckle under his breath as he squirmed playfully under Harry’s gaze. 

“Memorizing your face in case you decide to avoid me for another two days.” Harry murmured, but there was a smile on his face as he said it, his thumb coming up to swipe at Niall’s temple. 

“You don’t have my face memorized already?” Niall asked in mock offense. “I remember yours.” 

“Quick—what color are my eyes?” Harry cupped his hands over his face, waiting for Niall to guess.

“Are they…blue?”

“This is serious business, Nialler.”

“You’re a dork.”

“You love me.” 

“I do.”

“Wait, you—”

“I do…love you.” Niall didn’t realize what he was saying until it was already coming out of his mouth, but when it was out, he didn’t want to take it back. He loved Harry, simple as that. He’d probably loved him since the first time he saw him standing in the grocery store all those weeks ago. Grinning and offering him a strawberry vanilla cupcake…Yeah—he’d definitely loved him then, too.

Harry’s cheeks had gone pink, and he was staring at Niall with this incredibly surprised and overwhelmingly fond expression that made Niall feel like every inch of his skin was alight. “I love you, too.” He said. And that was that. 

 

***

 

A little bit later on, Harry proposed they go out and find a bit of firewood. So they dressed in comfortable clothes, unhurried and easy, and made their way outside, hand in hand. Maybe it was just that they’d been apart for a couple days and missed the feel of being in each other’s company, or maybe they were grasping onto their last little bits of paradise, but either way Niall loved the way Harry’s fingers slatted with his, warm and constant. A reminder of his presence, even when his mind drifted to the blank pages of the future, wondering whether there would be a ‘them’ at all. 

It was nearly noon, and the slowly-rising midday sun caught in Harry’s hair, making it sparkle like a halo around his head. It was fitting, Niall thought. 

“So will you go on to help someone else?” He asked suddenly, gripping Harry’s hand a little tighter and watching as he turned around to face him with a frown. “You know, after me?”

“There won’t be anyone after you,” Harry smiled, nuzzling his nose down into Niall’s hair as they walked. Their hips bumped a little, swaying them off course so they stumbled a bit. They nearly fell, but Niall’s center of gravity was a little better than Harry’s. 

“No, I mean—” Niall stopped walking then, tugging on Harry’s hand so he stopped, too. They were in a bit of a clearing; just a bare patch of land in a dip of forest. It looked like a giant bowl with trees around the edges. “You said you go all over the world, helping those who need it. Where will you go next?”

Harry bit his lip, blinking hard until he shook his head and let out a breathy, surprised laugh. “‘M sorry,” He mumbled, sweeping a thumb under his eye to catch a tear that barely had a chance to fall. “Um… I don’t know really.”

“Wherever it is, I want to come with you.”

“Ni—”

“I know we can’t be together… in that way… and it doesn’t matter to me, Harry.” Niall reached up and cupped the back of Harry’s head, tangling his fingers in the curls there. “I love you. Whatever part of you I can have. Whether that’s for one day out of the year or 300.” 

Harry was crying openly now; every tear catching on the sunlight, shimmering like a diamond as it made a path down his cheeks. Niall kissed them away as they came, smiling a bit against Harry’s skin. Harry’s arms were locked around Niall’s back, squeezing so tightly Niall could barely breathe, but he loved it. 

“You’ve already given up everything in your life for me. Just to be here.” Harry said, his eyes big and sad as they looked into Niall’s. “Your job, your apartment… Mia.”

Mia, of course. From the bar so many nights ago. Niall felt something drop like a stone to the pit of his stomach. He wondered what she thought of him. What anyone thought of him now. Tram, his father? None of them had even come looking for him; a thought that was almost too painful to process. “You’re my life now, okay? I wasn’t happy before, anyway.”

“Maybe you could be happy now,”

Niall felt a twinge of irritation flare. “I am happy now. Are you? It feels like you’re pushing me away.”

Harry kissed him quiet. Not too hard, but with a gentle urgency that made Niall’s knees feel weak. “I’ve never been happier.” He said, but the words came out sad.

Niall opened his mouth to say something back, but he cursed and brought his hands up to cover his eyes from the suddenly blinding light of the sun. The flash was so bright that he was practically blind for several seconds, rubbing his eyes frantically. He waited as black cleared to color and the bright orange floating patterns in his vision finally disappeared. By the time he could see again, Harry was no longer in front of him, or anywhere near him at all. 

“Harry?” His heart leapt into a sprint in his chest, fast enough that it made him dizzy. “Harry!”

But Harry was standing on the ridge at the top of the hill, his back to Niall. How he’d gotten up there so fast was a mystery, but he was staring at something, Niall could tell. It was bright and twinkling like the first rays of morning sunshine, but far more intense. The same light that had blinded him a moment ago, only now it seemed… contained. Hovering just off the ground, moving around in space like some sort of magical energy. From Harry’s hand gestures, it looked like he was talking to it. 

The light disappeared as quickly as it had come, and Harry was trudging down the hill again before Niall ever had the chance to come after him. “What was that all about?” He asked him, but Harry only smiled and took his hand, leading him back in the direction they’d come. The firewood was forgotten, and his smile never reached his eyes. 

 

***

 

It was nearly four in the evening by the time they got back. They ate a late lunch, and when Niall stood to put their plates in the sink, Harry reached over and pulled him into his lap instead.

“What are you doing?” Niall chuckled, but his smile fell when he looked at Harry.

“Kiss me,” He said, and the words sent dread swimming through Niall’s blood, making his vision prickle around the edges. They sounded like goodbye. “Kiss me,” Harry said again, and it was more a plea than anything else. So, trying hard to keep breathing, to not cry, Niall leaned forward and kissed his angel until his lips felt raw. 

They pulled apart several minutes later, both panting and flushed with heat. Niall started to get up then, used to the routine of teasing and restraint. But Harry pulled him back down, his fingers digging into Niall’s hips. He looked wrecked in more ways than one when he looked up at him and said, “Bedroom,”

 

Harry’s hands were everywhere—holding Niall’s face, steadying him into their kiss; sweeping up the side of his torso, taking the hem of his shirt with it; settling between them to undo his belt buckle with all the fever of a teenaged boy. Niall’s back was pressed against the bedroom door, and he could barely keep up. Harry was breathing hard into his mouth, pressing his long, hot body against him with a prominent, heavy erection trapped tight in his jeans. He rutted his hips against Niall’s leg as they kissed, needy and more enthusiastic than he’d ever been.

“Wait—Harry, wait. Just for a second, please.” Niall finally put his hands up and steadied them on Harry’s shoulders, stilling him long enough to listen. “We can’t do this, remember?”

Harry’s eyes were dilated to almost black, and his expression was glazed over with desire even as he answered, “I’m gonna make love to you, tonight, Ni.”

Niall sucked in a breath, trying to remain focused even though Harry’s words had him feeling light-headed, a little weak in the knees. “We can’t.” He repeated, more firmly this time. 

Harry pulled away a bit then, swiping his hair out of his eyes and seeming to regain a bit of regular thinking processes again. His lips were still bright red and wet from kissing, and his jeans remained tented out obscenely with his erection. Niall tried not to look down. “We get one night,” He said. “One night, no holding back. Trust me.”

There were a dozen different responses running through Niall’s mind: what, why, and how? being just a few. But all of that was forgotten the moment Harry unzipped Niall’s jeans and tugged them down along with his underwear. “Bed,” Harry rasped, all serious now. 

 

Harry’s lips were glorious—not that Niall didn’t already know that, but when they were around the base of his dick, it was easy to see heaven. 

“Fuck,” Niall groaned, his fingers tangled in Harry’s hair. He was lying on the bed, and Harry’s nose was buried against his pubic bone. He moved up and down a little, keeping his movements tight and rhythmic. “Fuck, Harry, I’m—” And Niall barely had a chance to give warning because Harry’s tongue was doing some thing that had Niall’s entire body spasming in on itself. He heard himself whimper pathetically as Harry sucked him gently through the rest of his orgasm and pulled away, flushed and gorgeous. 

“Spread them open,” Harry said, hoarsely. He tapped at the inside of Niall’s thighs until he did as he was told. “Is this… is this your first time?”

It seemed ridiculous; Niall was a grown man, and he hadn’t considered himself a “virgin” since he was sixteen. But what Harry was asking him was something else entirely. Niall shook his head ‘yes’.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Harry murmured, kissing the soft skin on the inner part of Niall’s leg. Then he did it on the other side. “If you ever want me to stop, just say the word.”

“Okay,” Niall breathed, letting his head fall back onto the pillow. He stared up at the ceiling, trying not to anticipate what was about to happen. Harry was not small by any measure, and the thought of being filled by him was a little terrifying. 

The first time he felt Harry’s tongue on his rim, he gasped. Outright gasped like a frightened old woman. Harry giggled against him, making weird vibrations against his sensitive flesh. “Feel good?” He asked. And before waiting for an answer, he licked it again, causing Niall to pant and squirm a little on the bed. “‘S alright, baby,” He hummed, licking a little more enthusiastically. He had to hold Niall’s hips down to keep him still. It felt so good. 

 

“Harry, please,” Niall begged him after the third finger was inserted. He wasn’t even entirely certain what it was he was asking for, but he knew he didn’t want Harry to stop.

“Almost ready for me, baby.” Harry rasped, his voice giving away his own arousal. Niall whimpered, thrusting down onto Harry’s fingers as he pumped in and out of him.

“I want you,” He moaned, tugging at Harry’s shirt. “Want you to fuck me.”

And when Harry gazed up at him then, the look on his face was enough to give Niall chills.

“Want me to fuck you?” He repeated, pulling his fingers out of Niall and crawling up the bed. Niall choked out a dry sob at the sudden emptiness. He nodded furiously in response to Harry’s question and lifted his legs up to lock them around Harry’s back. They were both naked, and Niall let his head roll back onto the pillow with a groan as he felt Harry’s hot, impatient length brush up his leg, trailing precum onto his skin as it did. 

Harry kissed him deeply on the lips and pulled away, a smile lighting up his face, dimpling his cheeks. “God, I’ve been waiting forever to do this.” He chuckled. Niall grinned back and waited for Harry to roll on the condom—courtesy of Niall’s wallet—before wrapping his hands around Harry’s shoulders. After a moment, he reached down and positioned himself in front of Niall’s hole, beginning to push in just a little at a time. They both made sounds of pleasure and surprise as he did.

“Alright so far?” Harry stopped to ask, a little breathlessly. Sweat was beading up around the edges of his forehead from the effort of holding himself up so long, but he looked happy. 

“So far?” Niall’s eyes widened ridiculously and he glanced down to see Harry barely had the tip in. He felt like crying, but not necessarily in a bad way. 

“Ni?” Harry frowned. 

“I’m fine, I promise. Just go. Please.” Niall wanted to feel Harry inside of him, even if he split him down the middle in the process. And that’s certainly what it felt like he was doing, at first. But then it felt amazing—better than he could have imagined

“Good, yeah?” Harry asked, hovering over him, pressing kisses all over his face. His hands were planted on either side of Niall’s head, firm and unyielding as he thrust into him. With every plunge, Niall slid backward a little, until he was almost banging into the headboard. Harry had to stop a couple times and drag them both back before he kept going. 

“Harry,” Niall panted when he was close again. Harry had a fist around Niall’s erection, pumping him and keeping time with his thrusts. The doubled-edged pleasure had Niall’s eyes rolling back, arching his back off the bed almost painfully. “Harry,” He whined again, and the thrusts into him became a bit erratic, less predictable. 

“So tight,” Harry murmured into Niall’s neck, too far gone to really make much sense. “Feel so good to me, so fucking good.”

Niall came with a low moan, his teeth pressed to Harry’s shoulder, every muscle in his body tensing, then relaxing at once. Harry continued on for a little while longer, grunting softly by Niall’s ear until he plunged one last time, froze up, and bit back a groan. 

“I love you,” Niall smiled up at Harry, tracing the line of his lips as he tried to catch his breath. Harry smiled back, his eyes bright and happier than Niall had ever seen them.

“I love you, too. So much.”

 

***

 

The time seemed to slow down a little, just for them. Tumbling by like sleepy cumulus clouds; it was sweet and calm and flesh on flesh. They’d had sex a couple more times after the first, and, exhausted, they tangled themselves up in sheets that were halfway kicked off the bed. Even after all they’d done, Niall couldn’t seemed to get as close to Harry as he wanted. He felt he’d never be satisfied with the distance between them, no matter how small. 

“You’re fidgeting,” Harry chuckled, wrapping his arm tighter around Niall as he wriggled further up Harry’s bare chest. 

“Mmm, sorry,” Niall murmured, a lazy grin on his lips as he pressed a kiss over Harry’s heart. “How are you so soft? Like a pillow…”

“You callin’ me fat?” Harry raised an eyebrow and reached down to squeeze at the small bit of extra flesh around his middle.

“I love your fat,” Niall replied, reaching down to poke Harry near his navel. The two of them laughed a bit, fingers still tracing patterns into each other’s skin, lost in their own heads. The room had long gone dark, and they could only see by the watery light of the moon seeping in through the windows. “You ever gonna tell me how this was possible?” Niall asked suddenly, staring off at the far wall, listening to Harry’s breathing as he waited for a reply. 

Harry seemed to think for a moment, and then said, “I asked for a favor… We’re breaking all the rules, you know? This was never supposed to happen.”

Niall nodded, but he didn’t like it when Harry said it like that. Like what they had was some sort of abomination. A mistake. “So…what was the favor?”

“I was getting to that,” Harry laughed, nuzzling Niall closer and resting his chin on the top of a mop of blonde hair. “I, um—I asked to be human for a day.”

“What?”

“One night, really.”

“Harry—”

“Shh…” Harry smiled and shook his head when Niall looked up at him, all furrowed brows and confusion. “Let’s just enjoy it, yeah? For tonight. Please.”

And how could Niall say no to that face?

 

They spent another couple hours talking quietly and kissing before Niall’s eyes started to get heavy and he was dozing off intermittently. 

“Just go to sleep, Ni.” Harry said, nudging his shoulders a bit. Niall had been mumbling something unintelligible, reluctant to stop the conversation even though he didn’t have a clue what he was saying. 

“No—no, wanna keep….talking to you…” But Niall fell asleep anyway, his eyes fluttering shut against his will and ending his perfect night in his angel’s arms. 

 

He woke a few hours later to an empty bed and the low strumming of a guitar. He opened his eyes just the slightest, his mind still wrapped in sleep so he wasn’t entirely sure whether what he saw was real or just something he imagined, but Harry…. his Harry…. his angel…was sitting at the end of the bed, hunched over the guitar. Naked, with only a bit of sheet bunched up around his waist, the bumps of Harry’s spine caught the moonlight, looking like baby smooth dragon scales beneath his tumbling curls. 

Niall couldn’t see Harry’s hands—hadn’t even known he could play—but he did recognize the song….it was something slow, something sad…

Harry looked up from the strings as the song began to build, his shoulder moving with the strums. He wasn’t looking in Niall’s direction, but out the window at the night sky that was quickly turning to grey. The sun was almost visible on the horizon, glowing a brilliant gold that was beginning to bleed…

Niall blinked a couple times, sleep tugging him down again, the ever-impatient captor. But before he closed his eyes one last time, he couldn’t help but look at Harry’s eyes. They were almost ghostly in the grey-white light filtering into the room. Dragged down with bags that Niall hadn’t noticed before. Wet with tears that hadn’t been shed. “Harry…” Niall tried to call out his name, but he was falling…falling…falling. Drifting into darkness before he could make a sound. 

 

***

The next time Niall opened his eyes, there was nothing but chaos around him. He had a song stuck in his head though.

_If this is to end in fire,_  
_Then we should all burn together,_  
_Watch the flames climb high, into the night_

“Niall? Niall if you can here me, blink twice.”

_Callin’ out father, oh_  
_Stand by and we will,_  
_Watch the flames burn auburn on_  
_The mountain side_

“He’s not breathing, Doctor—we need to open up his airway.”

_And if we should die tonight,_  
_Then we should all die together,_  
_Raise a glass of wine for the last time_

“He’s got no pulse. Niall?…..Niall….can y…..hear m…?”

_And I hope that you remember me…_

 

***

 

“So…I was in an accident?” Niall turned the words over in his mouth, but they didn’t feel right. His mind was so foggy; every thought was like fighting his way through sludge. 

“Yes.” His father was there at the hospital with him, along with the rest of his family. They were all watching him like he was a new animal at the zoo. He knew they meant well, but it was starting to weird him out. Luckily, his dad noticed. “Hey, why don’t we give him a minute? Let him get his bearings. I’ll stay here with him.”

So they all crowded through the one door, pushing and shoving a bit until they were all out. Niall watched after them, but then his gaze fell back on his father, whose eyes had never left his face. 

“Do you remember anything?” He asked quietly.

Niall shook his head. “When did I get back?” And he frowned, because that was a weird way to say it, but he didn’t correct himself.

“Get back?” His dad asked, and he seemed confused as well, but he answered anyway. “Well, you had the accident this afternoon sometime. The weather was just godawful—storming like I haven’t seen in years. And you swerved off the road…” He cleared his throat, looking down at the floor. “I’m glad you’re okay, son. Promise me, no more drinking, alright? Your blood/alcohol levels were just barely passable, and I know you like to stay at the pub most nights.”

“Pub?” That didn’t sound right. Neither did the bad weather. Sunshine—he remembered sunshine and warmth on his skin. H…. H…..

“There’s a girl here for you. Mia, I believe. She’s pretty.” His dad gave him a knowing smile before standing up from his chair and heading for the door. “I’ll go get her,”

But Niall was hardly listening. “Harry,” He muttered, under his breath. It just slipped off his tongue like a habit, familiar as his own name. “Harry…Harry!” The memories started rushing back to him, full force, knocking the wind out of him with the magnitude. Harry—where was Harry?

“Hey Niall,” A young woman peeked her head around the door, a smile on her face. “It’s Mia. You don’t know me that well, but we spoke at the bar last night—Niall?”

“Where is he?” Niall tore out his IV and flipped back the covers, trying to stand on wobbly legs. “I—I have to find him, get out of my way!”

“Wait—Niall, stop,” Mia held up her hands, refusing to budge despite Niall’s insistence. “I know about Harry, okay? He left some things with me that he wants me to give to you, but I have some stipulations first. Take a seat.”

 

***

 

Nearly a month later, Niall was released from the hospital as an outpatient. His parents insisted he stay at their place so they could look after him while he was still recovering. It was unnecessary—Niall felt fine, and he’d told them that several times—but it seemed to make them worry less, so he let them have their way. When he left to meet Mia for lunch that afternoon, it was the first time he’d been outside in what seemed like a decade. 

“Let’s eat out on the patio,” Niall said to her, leaning against the door to let her pass. “I miss sunshine.”

“How’s your knee?” Mia asked, after they’d gotten their drinks. Her strawberry blonde hair was wrapped up in a messy bun, and her headband had white flowers on it to match her skirt. It was only then that Niall realized maybe he should have worn something other than sweatpants and a t-shirt with a honey mustard stain on the hem. 

“Doc said it won’t ever be the same, but it’ll get me around,” Niall managed a smile, but traced the long, angry scar on his knee, almost out of habit. He’d gotten it in the accident, and it still hurt like hell most days, but that kind of pain Niall could handle. “So, I’ve done everything that you asked.” Niall crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair, looking at Mia from underneath the brim of his snapback. 

“Let’s see,” Mia pressed a finger to her chin, tapping playfully as she pretended to think on it. “You’re out of the hospital. Taking your meds—I know, because if you weren’t, you’d be twice as unbearable right now as you already are.”

Niall rolled his eyes, but smiled. “And?”

“And you’ve been journaling, like we talked about?” Mia asked, her voice softer now as she looked at him. 

Journaling. Right. Niall slapped the little black book on the table, a little rougher than he’d meant to. “It’s all there,” He sighed, looking off across the street where a couple was walking down the sidewalk pushing a baby stroller. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mia slide the book over so she could flip through it a bit, nodding slightly. 

“Feel any better after getting it all out?”

Niall thumbed over the crook of his left arm, casting his gaze downwards now, suddenly no longer endeared by the blinding sunshine. “Let’s just get on with it, okay?”

Mia cleared her throat, a little taken aback. “Of course…” Niall felt bad, but he stayed quiet, waiting. “Well I know most of what happened, between you and…”

“Harry.” Niall supplied. “You can say his name, I won’t fall apart or anything.”

“Okay… Harry. I know you two were together… intimately. And I know there were reasons you couldn’t stay like that.” 

Niall snorted a short, harsh laugh. He wondered how much detail Harry’d gone into on that one. 

“Harry told me you’d be a little confused when you woke up after the car accident,”

“A little confused? I lost almost a month of my life.” Niall blurted, suddenly pissed all over again. “A month in that house with him, day after day, falling in love with him… and when I woke up, no time had passed. It was like it never happened. Everyone thought I was crazy for weeks.”

“Yeah, Harry said—”

“Why the hell did he tell you all of this, anyway?” Niall couldn’t stop once he’d gotten started. He was like a pot boiling over, everything spilling out and burning whoever was closest. “He didn’t even know you, and now you know more about our relationship than I do. Instead of giving me a proper goodbye, he decided to gossip to a stranger.”

“Look, I don’t know why he picked me either, alright?” Mia snapped, the softness in her voice replaced with a cutting edge. “Here,” She tossed a set of keys onto the table, letting them slide over to Niall with the loud claw of metal on wood. He caught them instinctually, looking down at them in bewilderment, then back at Mia. “The keys to the house and the car. They’re yours to keep.”

Niall turned the keys over in his palm in disbelief. “I can’t—are you serious?”

Mia nodded her head, calmed down again. “Your stuff’s already moved in. Harry wanted you to have them.”

“The house is still there?” Niall heard himself speak, and the sound was quiet, almost tentative. But everything was so muddled in his brain, between what was real and what was just in his imagination—some part of him had just assumed that he’d made up the house, too. That if he went back there, he’d find nothing but more trees. 

Mia smiled, soft and encouraging. “It’s there, just like you left it.”

Only Niall had never left. Not of his own will. If it were up to him, he’d spend the rest of his days on that mountain, wrapped up in Harry’s arms. 

“Do you want to go see it?” Mia prompted, reaching across the table to touch Niall’s hand. “I think it would be good for you.”

He thought about it for a long time. Mulling it over and over before nodding slowly and swallowing hard. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.”

 

***

 

——PROLOGUE:——

SIX YEARS LATER

“For the hundredth time, I’ve got this.” Niall intercepted Mia halfway down the hall and took her box of art supplies from her. 

“I’m pregnant, not dead.” She argued, groaning and throwing her head back in frustration. 

“Yeah, but you’re really, really pregnant.” Niall chuckled and smoothed his hand over the large baby bump that was holding his yet-to-be-born son. Seconds later, he felt a kick against his palm, and he grinned. He’d felt it a dozen times but it never ceased to amaze him. “Go out to the car babe, I’ll check that we got everything.”

He helped Mia and her box into the Range Rover and hurried back up the steps of the little house they’d shared together over the past few years. The baby blue of the front door was fading now; chipped in some places and scuffed near the threshold. But it was still easy to see the old brush strokes from years ago, painted with a gentle, thoughtful hand.

Niall walked through the front door and into the hall. The place was just about empty now. The moving van had come earlier that morning, but Niall was fitting the last of it into the car to take with them—halfway across the country to San Francisco where he’d been offered a position in his field. His “fancy new engineer job” Mia called it, with a fondness in her voice that made Niall’s cheeks flush with pride. With her help, he’d been able to go back to school. A year and a half ago, he’d gotten his bachelor’s. Three months ago, he’d walked across the stage in front of thousands of people to accept his Master’s. He wasn’t a rockstar, but he felt like one.

Niall kicked aside a couple stray papers and dust bunnies floating around on the floor, and then checked in each room, making sure they weren’t forgetting anything. Not that it would be too terrible if they did; he hadn’t felt right about selling the house, so he left it in his parents’ care. They wouldn’t live there, but his dad promised to come check on the place from time to time and make sure things were intact. 

He stopped off in the bedroom. It was the last room he had to check, and he just sort of let himself take a breath and be sentimental for a moment. There was a lot of history in that room. 6 years worth. And he didn’t want to forget a second of it. 

It was the room where Mia first told him she was pregnant. He’d just woken up; his feet planted firmly on the floor, his elbows resting on his knees as he rubbed at his eyes and contemplated pulling away from the warmth of the bed. Mia had come out of the bathroom, wide-eyed and trembling, looking like she’d seen a ghost. “We’re going to have a baby,” She’d said, and then the widest grin split across her face as she ran over to jump into his arms. 

It was the room where he’d asked her to marry him. Down on one knee, messy hair and bare-chested. He’d had something much more romantic planned out, of course, but he’d learned years back that time was precious, and sometimes you only got a little bit of it with the person you love most. 

It was the room where he’d fallen in love with Harry.

Niall stooped to his knees when something caught his eye on the floor. Something small and square and covered in dust. He picked it up and blew away the debris, smiling a little when he recognized it as his old wallet. He opened it up, checking to see if there was any cash left inside that he’d forgotten about, but instead something thin and weathered fluttered out of its hold, swirling down to the floor at his feet, landing face up. 

Niall’s heart stopped and restarted again in heavy, painful thuds. Funny how Harry still had that effect on him, even in picture form. 

It was the photo Niall found of Harry years ago when they were staying in the house together. The one Harry didn’t know he had. It was taken in 1936, with Harry leaned against the wooden slats of a house, smiling the same smile that would be burned into Niall’s brain for the rest of his life. Creased to hell and ripping dangerously along the seams, Niall held it with the utmost care as he studied it. The dimples in Harry’s cheeks and the way he seemed so at ease. Niall missed that. And he would continue to miss it, he knew. He had a whole new life now; a wife, a baby on the way, and a job waiting for him in one of the most exciting cities in America. He was happy. Ridiculously, disgustingly, endlessly happy, and he had Harry to thank for that. For opening his eyes to what a dream his life could be like…even if it meant he wouldn’t be in it. 

Niall carefully folded up the old photo and transferred it to his new wallet, tossing the other one back to the dust. He felt it there, burning hot in his pocket even as he turned out the lights and left the house for the last time. Even as he slid into the packed-full truck out front and moved his guitar out of the way so he could lean over and kiss his wife. Harry, watching over him from someplace, somewhere. 

In his mind, Niall thanked him, for everything he had, everything he held dear. And for a love he would never forget as long as he lived. His Harry, his angel.


End file.
